


Champagne High

by mcgarrygirl78



Series: How Soon is Now? [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2415923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is irrefutable proof that I am not that bad of a guy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne High

**Author's Note:**

> This universe, which is kinda canon as I am going by Hotch stating he worked for Ambassador Prentiss during this time, needs a name. But if you name something you are then attached to it so I am not sure I want to do that. I don’t know this Hotch and Emily well yet, it will be interesting to see what happens if I ever get to. The title comes from the Sister Hazel song. Oh God, if I give them songs I am stuck with them for sure.  This is **#2** in the **How Soon is Now**  series.

There was still time to talk herself out of it. Since she woke up that morning, Emily had gone back and forth on the subject until her head hurt. She had been distracted and he called her on it but she dismissed him. He was there, like always, to pick her up and drop her off. Emily was quiet and reserved in the back of the car.

 

“I don’t know you too well,” he said on the ride home. “But I have never seen you so quiet.”

 

“You're right; you don’t know me that well.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Hotch shut up after that, leaving her to her conflicted thoughts. Emily knew he was watching her in the rearview mirror but she ignored the pull of his hypnotic hazel eyes. He watched her all day; Emily was glad he took off an hour early. In her bedroom she made the final decision to just go. Her mother was out for the evening, who knew when she would return. Emily was alone…she was tired of being alone.

 

Two blocks from his apartment there was still time to change her mind. Surely he would be surprised to see her there, perhaps even angry. He would want to know how she found out where he lived. She did not want him to be upset with her. Emily followed him home one night. She used her nanny’s car and sat outside his apartment for almost an hour. It was a stalker move, she could admit that, but how else would she find out what she wanted to know. 

 

The thought of going through her mother’s files crossed her mind for a split second. Picking the lock would be no problem at all. Emily knew it was a bad idea because she would be compelled to look for more than Aaron Hotchner’s address. It didn’t take her very long in the life she led to know that once you learned something it could never be unlearned. Who knew what she would be forced to live with out of a morbid curiosity about something else entirely.

 

A block away from her destination, Emily almost changed her mind again. What if he was not alone? She didn’t know very much about him, he could have a girlfriend. She could be worldly, beautiful, and in no mood to have her evening interrupted by a high school kid. He might even have a boyfriend, which would surely be more awkward. Emily didn’t get the gay vibe from him but she was smart enough to know that she wouldn’t know the gay vibe if it bit her in the ass. No, she thought she would probably know it. She was smart and worldly herself. There was no point in going around in circles about that…it had nothing to do with anything. She had snuck out of her house, walked a mile and a half to the train station, caught the train to DC, and was walking another half mile or so. Turning back was not a part of the equation anymore. Whatever happened now just happened.

 

There was someone coming out of the building as Emily approached. She quickened her pace, asking them to hold the door. The young man smiled and complied. Her innocent, attractive face won almost every time. A quick glance at the mailboxes said she had to go upstairs and to the end of the hall. Emily’s heart pounded hard in her chest she swore it would leap out and fall on the floor. She clutched the bag she held, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door. There was no taking it back…it was here and now. The footsteps behind the door were light, he must have been barefoot and that made her smile.

 

Aaron Hotchner pulled open the apartment door. The look on his face was one of surprise. It only lasted for a split second but Emily saw it. Then it was back to his regular Hotch face…nearly unreadable. Sometimes she hated that face.

 

“Hi.” His voice betrayed nothing.

 

“Happy birthday, Hotch.”

 

“How did you know that?” he asked.

 

“I know a lot of things. May I come in?”

 

Hotch nodded, stepping aside and letting her over the threshold. The apartment was small and sparsely decorated, very efficient just like the man himself. He was dressed as she had never seen him, sweatpants and an American University Crew tee shirt. She knew he went to Fordham but not American. She looked further in and saw the TV was on.

 

“You're alone on your birthday? That’s unacceptable.”

 

“I am not alone anymore. Though I have to say that I am curious as to how you found me.” Hotch waved toward the couch and they both sat down.

 

“I followed you home one evening.” Emily replied.

 

“Interesting.” He raised an eyebrow.

 

“When I want to know things, I figure them out. My world isn’t exactly one of honesty. People are not always, in fact rarely are they, forthcoming with information. I didn’t think you would be forthcoming with the information I sought though I don’t look at you as I do other people.”

 

“There are lines drawn and everyone stays on their respective sides.” Hotch replied.

 

“I will just leave if you think I am invading your personal space. I mean,” Emily stood, stepping backwards toward the front door. “This was…I just thought that…actually I wasn’t…”

 

“At ease soldier.” Hotch smiled despite himself. She really should not have been there, he needed to get her back home, but there was something about Emily Prentiss. “You're already here so…how did you get here? Did you steal your nanny’s car again?”

 

“Steal is a strong word and you are not the only one with Secret Agent abilities, Hotch. I get things done when I have to.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me. What's in the bag?”

 

“Well I was showing up unannounced, the least I could do was come bearing gifts.”

 

“That’s nice. Your quirky little nickname seems to have stuck too, by the way.”

 

“What, Hotch?”

 

He nodded.

 

“The Agent in charge called me that twice in the meeting this morning and the rest of the team seems to have followed suit.”

 

“I like it.” Emily smiled. “It’s cute.”

 

“That’s one word for it.”

 

“Happy birthday, Hotch.” She said again, handing him the bag.

 

“Sit down.” He replied, pulling out the small wrapped gift and tearing off the paper. There were two cassette tapes, Eric Clapton’s _Journeyman_ and the Rush live album, _A Show of Hands_.

 

“How did you know I liked Rush?”

 

“You play them in the car sometimes, and you told me you were a Clapton fan. I would think you were the kind of guy who remembers every conversation he has.”

 

He usually was. Hotch couldn’t help but wonder why he forgot that and how much else he told Emily Prentiss.

 

“There’s more in the bag.” She pointed to it.

 

“You didn’t have to.”

 

“I know that. Something in me knew you weren’t celebrating. Everyone deserves to celebrate on their birthday, even if you're just happy to be alive.”

 

Hotch pulled the bottle of Dom Perignon from the bag and finally a card. He opened the envelope, reading it. ‘ _You don’t bug me as much as I let on. Don’t let it go to your head. Happy birthday, Always Emily_ ’.

 

“I'm hanging this card from the rearview mirror.” Hotch said, his dimples coming through with his grin. “This is irrefutable proof that I'm not that bad of a guy.”

 

“You're just doing your job. You surely didn’t ask to be stuck with me.” Emily replied.

 

“I don’t feel stuck…it’s an interesting job.”

 

“You're a bad liar, Hotch.” She smiled.

 

“I would not lie to you.”

 

“At least you're getting real-life lessons for work in the FBI.”

 

“What kind of lessons?” Hotch asked.

 

“Mmm, hostage negotiation maybe; definitely conflict resolution.”

 

He laughed, standing up from the couch. She was bold and cheeky, which drew him to her. He was doing his best to keep his professional distance. That bravado was just Emily’s outside armor; what she used to protect herself. What Hotch saw beneath, the softness, the vulnerability and strength in those ever-curious brown eyes, the fighter in her…he wanted to run away screaming. 

 

Six weeks ago he got Operation: Emily as his main assignment. She was a minor then but now she was 18. She was also the boss’s daughter and still a kid. Hotch knew that most if not all of her life was spent traveling the world. Emily Prentiss was cosmopolitan for sure but didn’t she deserve the carefree trappings of childhood? Not that Hotch knew much about those. They were just so alike, he couldn’t help but…

 

“What?” Emily asked.

 

“What? I'm sorry?”

 

“You spaced out. Penny for your thoughts?”

 

“How did an eighteen year old get a bottle of Dom Perignon?” he asked.

 

“I would tell you but then I would have to kill you. Let’s have a drink.”

 

“One drink for you and I shouldn’t even do that.”

 

“But you will. Two and I’ll be your best friend.” She smiled.

 

“Emily…”

 

“Hotch, I've been drinking since you were too young to. I can handle a couple of glasses of champagne.”

 

Hotch rolled his eyes, going into his tiny kitchen. Emily grabbed the remote from the coffee table and started flipping channels. At least he had cable. There was never anything on, and Emily usually hated TV, but AMC played _Planet of the Apes_. It was not one of her favorite films but she remembered the first time she saw it with her father. The happy memory warmed her. Hotch returned with two glass tumblers and a bowl of pretzels.

 

“I am so sorry but I don’t have champagne flutes.” He explained.

 

“I don’t care. What's inside the glass is what's important.”

 

“My mother would die of shame if she witnessed this.” Hotch sat on the couch beside her again.

 

“Well the next time she calls you tell her that you need a set of champagne flutes…for when important company comes over. Now, how about a toast? I have to make it a good one since I only get one more drink.”

 

Hotch held up his tumbler and waited.

 

“To Aaron Hotchner, on his 25th birthday. A good guy, a kind guy, and a guy who always looks handsome in a tie.” Emily smiled. “To a wonderful evening and many more to come.”

 

“Many more.”

 

Their glasses came together and Hotch sipped the champagne. It was good; it was actually the best. He smiled at Emily, settling back on the couch.

 

“I love this movie.” He said.

 

“It’s decent. I remember the first time I saw it; my mouth must have been agape for the next hour after it was over. I’m glad we can watch it together.”

 

***

 

“We need to get you home soon.”

 

“Hmm?” Emily looked over at him, her eyes drowsy.

 

They had been relaxing on the couch, sitting close. Emily had slipped out of her boots and was sitting on her feet. Her arms relaxed on Hotch’s shoulder, her chin on her arm. The movie was over and Robert Osborne was discussing it.

 

“I’ll take you home…I don’t like the idea of you taking a train and then having to walk over a mile.”

 

“They said _The Philadelphia Story_ was next. Tell me you don’t want to see Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant vie for the affection of Katharine Hepburn.”

 

“It’s a school night.” Hotch reasoned.

 

Emily made a funny noise and rolled her eyes. Hotch stood up from the couch. 

 

“Get your shoes on, Emily. I’ll be right back.”

 

He walked back into his bedroom. He grabbed a fleece pullover and a pair of athletic shoes from his tiny closet.

 

“I don’t want to go home.”

 

Emily’s voice in his bedroom startled Hotch and he popped his head out of the closet. She leaned against his doorframe, the sadness blanketing her just as the elation had been a few hours before.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t want to go home, Hotch. I hate it there.”

 

“You have to go home.” He dropped the shoes and fleece on his bed and came to stand in front of her. “Where else are you going to go?”

 

“I hate it there.” She shook her head. “It’s big and lonely and…I just have to get the hell out of that prison.”

 

“I understand.” Hotch’s hands fell softly on her shoulders. “You're so close. Next fall you won't even be here. I know your pain, I know…”

 

Emily cut him off with a passionate kiss. Hotch took hold of her shoulders, perhaps a bit too forcefully, and pulled her away from him. Looking into her eyes, he saw a mixture of lust and pain. She was so beautiful, so amazing; he couldn’t hold back on his feelings any longer. Hotch could only think about burning in hell as he kissed her again, slowly, passionately, and knew Emily Prentiss would not be going home tonight.

 

***

                                                                                                           

  
  
 

  



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